5 стихов на английском языке

The way "up"

Piter’s dad is a math PhD,
But in life, he’s as soft as can be.
While the dimwits, so sly and pragmatic,
Climb to the "top" through chaos dramatic.



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The Darlings of the Global Rotten Play, or Tolerasty and HUMUSism

"Humanitarian ideals abound,"
They preach, but lies their core surround.
Just empty slogans, falsely pure—
Obedience cloaked as overture!

The days of CowID made it clear,
What this "humusism" holds dear.
Through tolerasty, like a worm,
You'll squirm and serve a fascist term.

But those who stand, unbowed, apart,
Pose danger to this humus art.
The "humus people," dulled and weak,
Fall deep into a cretin's streak,

Like cushions catching flames' descent,
To soften blows that fires sent.
Oh, darlings of the global fraud,
Where lies and cowardice applaud!



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Rams and Their New Armor

Our armor’s strong, our tanks are swift in motion,
A mad commander drives us to the fray.
And spirits flow like water — such devotion,
To die for nothing, eager anyway.

For nothing — yes, to slaughter fools, they’re sending,
We do not know the cause, nor question why.
Each generation meets the same grim ending,
Like lambs to slaughter, led by beasts, we die.



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Total Evil

"Change" arrives—a veil of lies,
The world now teems with fear and noise.
Betrayal thrives, and truth denies,
While fragile Souls meet their demise.

The mind, subdued and stripped of grace,
Becomes the toy of darkened schemes.
With each new generation's race,
The intellect sheds weight, it seems.

And soullessness, now commonplace,
Declared the norm with zealous pride.
CowID revealed its heartless face,
While Shame is broadcast far and wide.

The soulless bask in Evil's reign,
Its grip extends where none can flee.
No shelter shields from growing pain—
If blind and deaf, you’re lucky, see...



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Askew and Ajar

With scarce reaction I will greet
The so-called "change" that days reveal.
They're bleak. And Prophets I not meet —
The time for idiots to kneel.

Bend your own path with stubborn hand,
And pin your hopes on blindest chance.
Yet chance, that trickster, roams the land
To leave things askew in its grim dance.



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